2011-08-04 - Secret Meeting
When the door opens and the number appears on the LED panel, the slim form trying to hide out inside a zipped-up long-sleeve hoodie a few sizes too large and a pair of loose-fitting jeans checks the slip of paper in hand, then gets up and heads for the door, holding up the slip to prove that's the number. It's only as the figure draws closer that it becomes quite obvious this figure is in fact an athletic young brunette, a girl of probably sixteen to eighteen, rather than the smallish boy she clearly wants others to think. "Hi." she murmurs, trying to keep her voice low and add some kind of gravely edge to it. Given those signs, it wouldn't be hard for a peer counselor to guess the issue at hand, even without a file folder or extensive prior background. Jane's not exactly a paragon of femininity either. She's dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, open over a 'SAVE THE WHALES' vintage t-shirt. She has on glasses. Her mousy brown hair is cut unfashionably but managably short. "Hi." She's crouched on the window sill and smiles. "I'm Jane. I'm your peer councillor." Even her voice is different from Heart Girl. Less musical. More baritone. There's no manilla folder here. No obvious signs that Jane knows Suzannah's background. "What do you like to be called?" Not 'what is your name'. "I've been trying 'Sam'." the other girl offers, nodding to Jane. "Nice'ta'meetcha." A bit of real Brooklyn accent creeps in there. She wanders over and takes a seat, trying to sit more like a guy than like the 'lady' her mother insists upon all of the time. That the peer counselor asks it that way makes her loosen up, just a little bit. "How're you?" she asks, perhaps giving herself a bit of a reprieve until they get to her side of things. "I'm doing okay." Jane slides down from her perch and walks to sit down as well. This puts her on an even level with 'Sam'. Not above her. Not forcing Sam to look up at her. "My folks are a little peeved at me because I've gotten into watching a little too much television. They're not fond of commercial driven media." 'Sam' just smirks at that, shaking her head. "Seriously? What's that all about?" She slouches in the chair, definitely going as much for the 'guy' vibe as she can manage in spite of herself. Jane closes her eyes as she considers how to frame the answer. "My parents are... to the left. Very far. Not communists but hippies." She opens her eyes as she explains. "They dislike commercialism. They love the environment and social equality. That sort of thing." "Hunh. Hippies?" 'Sam' shakes her head. "Pretty far out. Mom is a schol teacher. Uppity private school in uptown. Dad ... he was in the Army. All high and tight. Died when I was a baby. I barely remember him, 'cept from pictures, Mom's stories, or my grandparents. Before they passed too. Biggest thing my Mom's into is seeing her kid succeed better than she did. American dream sort of stuff." "A lot of parents have that dream." Jane notes. "I think every kid knows, on some level, that they need to live their own lives. Not the lives their parents want for them. You don't wear that at home, I imagine?" 'Sam' shakes her head. "No, not really. I mean, sometimes. But if she sees me like this, she frowns. Doesn't like that I have my hair all short, but she deals. I end up going to school where she teaches, 'cuz I get in free. But it's all uniforms and stuff. And she'll only get me skirts. This is how I dress when /I/ want to dress." She frowns. "This is me. The other ... just a mask I put on, y'know? To make her happy. Keep the peace." "You must hate that." Jane leans forward. Her arms folded on her knees. Classic listening position. No hint of a smile. No cheerfulness. Just an intensity and curiosity. Someone wants to know. Wants to hear. "I do. But she's my Mom. We're all either of us has left. And I love her. So ... I keep the peace." 'Sam' answers. "I like school well enough, and they have sports teams. Just ... wish I could be more myself. 'Course, short of a bloody miracle, that'll never happen. But at least I could stop pretending to be normal." Jane scratches the side of her nose. Sometimes, parts itch. There's no deeper meaning there. "I won't insult your intelligence by pointing out that when you turn eighteen and you're on your own.... because we both know it isn't that simple. Was your mom this focused on you before your dad's death? Or did his death cause her to focus so hard on you?" 'Sam' shrugs. "I was three. I don't really remember much. But I think it's more a matter of Gramma and Pap-pap than anything else. When Gramma got sick, that's when it started. She needed me to be 'good.' I didn't mind staying with Gramma and helping out; I loved her. But Mom got all wound up about how I had to start acting like a 'little lady', that Gramma needed to see that she'd raised a good girl. Same crap with Pap-pap after that. And since then, she's really never let up." She doesn't even try to address the question of when she's eighteen. Sure, if she can afford to move ot, she can dress how she wants. But she can't really get accepted as who she wants to be. She can't even do a convincing portrayal. And there's no way she'd get the scratch together to manage the operations and medications to even come close to passing. She knows it. Clearly, it frustrates her to no end. "Your mom has her own issues. I'm sorry they have to be your issues, too." Jane leans back in her chair. "I'm not here to tell you what to do. I can help you come up with strategies, though, to make your life better. We can identify what and where you can control things. You have to wear the skirt at school. Outside, more freedom. I'm not an expert in transitions but we can find someone to give you pointers on changing your appearance?" 'Sam' tends to be pretty blunt. "Well, I'll take the pointers, Jane. But honestly, I don't know how well it'll go." Advice is great, and there are probably things she can do that she's not doing. But whether or mind and spirit like it or not, she was born and blessed with a very feminine body. There will be limits to what she can manage. At least, without surgery. Or magic. "It's a mess. Realizing /why/ I'm all messed up, what it all means, has been a huge thing for me. Lots of stuff I still don't get. But I'll figure it out. 'S'why I come here." Jane smiles brightly. "That's fantastic. My job is to be here and be someone your own age to talk to. Someone who isn't at your school and who doesn't know your mom. You can tell me anything and I promise I'll keep it to myself unless I believe it involves you hurting yourself or someone else. Which I don't believe you'll do so..." 'Sam' grimmaces and shakes her head. "Never really been suicidal. Grumpy, annoyed, and confused. But hurting myself is no good. Just makes things worse. And it's no one else's fault, either." Sam offers a little smile. "You make it easy to talk about it, though. 'Preciate that, since I don't talk about it with almost anyone. Hate bein' a freak." "You are not a freak." Jane says. Firmly. With authority. "You were born the wrong gender. It happens and it can't be fun but in this day and time? You can do something about it. When you're ready. Do not hate on yourself. Hate is poison. Hate destroys our ability to love. Love ourselves. Love other people." "C'mon. Like you said, I was born the wrong gender. I'm a bit of a freak. It happens." 'Sam offers.' There really is a core of self-loathing in there. "Lots of folks have their freak flags. Just have to figure out how to live with it, is all." That's the thing about the amulet: her fondest wish and greatest dream come true, but only temporarily, ever permanent. In a way, it makes it harder to deal with, because it makes it very difficult to accept any substitute short of that miraculous transformation. "You sound a lot like your parents when you talk like that." Sam comments. "I think a lot of their thoughts are outdated and we have to live in the modern world. That doesn't mean I don't value the core of their values." Jane says with a small laugh. Still, she's troubled. She doesn't need Heart Girl's empathy to know this girl hates herself both for being herself and for not being herself. "Sounds fair." 'Sam' comments, clearly not upset by the idea. It was just an observation, after all. "You looking forward to school?" she asks, trying to just have a conversation for a bit. "Won't be but a few more days and athletic camps will start up. Just a few more weeks, and classes begin." "I'll be going to field hockey camp during the day." Jane answers. Talking about herself is part of the job. Forming a bond. "I'm not really looking forward to school. I'm like you there. I don't quite belong. An idealist flower child in a school full of material obsessed twitterers." 'Sam' chuckles at that, and smirks a little. "Field hockey, hunh?" She did mention she's into athletics. "I'm sure you have your friends, though. Other idealists, even if they aren't flower grandchildren." She made a funny. "I..." Jane thinks about that for a moment. She looks down at her hands. "I know people. I can't say I have friends. Girls on my team some. As long as I play well, we get along. But we don't hang out." 'Sam' purses her lips for a moment, then reaches out to touch those clasped hands. "Sorry. That sucks. I know how that is. My teammates are good folks. But ... beyond just being on the teams together, we don't hang out. We're not friends. Closest I ever had were two guys I met when my Mom and I moved to Brooklyn. We met in kindergarten. But we've grown apart, since. Doesn't help that I grew up. They don't exactly see me as 'one of the guys' anymore." Jane smiles, gently. "I've met people recently. Different people. I don't know for sure where that'll go but.. I don't know." She sucks in a breath. "I'm seeing a councillor here, too. If that helps. You aren't alone." "Really?" 'Sam' sounds pretty surprised by that. "I wouldn't have thought you'd need it. But I'm glad you're getting it, if you do." Not much else she can say, there. "Good luck, though. With the new people, I mean. That can be a real challenge." "I have a strong core. I believe in who I am. But everytime someone calls you a name... everytime someone disparages you... it gnaws at you." Jane says softly. "I'm into causes. I'm not pretty or ugly. My name is Jane. You can work out the rest. You're smart. Talking to someone skilled in talking helps." 'Sam' groans at that. "Really? They call you that? No creativity there. And no clue. I mean, c'mon. You're nowhere near 'plain', not with your causes and stuff. Nobody 'plain' volunteers to be a peer counselor as a teenager, especially not about the kind of stuff that comes up /here/." Talking to someone skilled in talking helps 'Sam 'come out o her shell a bit. "Crazy when they're talking about me and my causes." Jane says sadly. "Plain when they're talking about what I look like. Which leads to a segue. Have you thought about your sexuality? I know a lot of transgender people have a problem with that as a seperate but entangled issue." 'Sam' sighs and shrugs a bit. "Thought about it? Yeah. I've thought about it. The wonders of puberty and adolescence. I've thought about it a lot. Which doesn't mean I've come up with any answers. I mean, it's only been recently I've really figured out what's going on with who I want to be. Who I'm not, but want to be. I don't figure it matters much who I'd want to be with, since I can't even be who I want to be. But it's a nice, confusing mess, I assure you." "Your body has urges. You're a teenager. I've read that a lot of pre-transition teenagers have... issues because their body doesn't have the equipment they feel they need to experience release." Jane speaks quietly but remarkably without embarassment. "That's the sort of thing talking to a Female to Male transgender person might help you with." It's not hard to see 'Sam' would really like to rewind this conversation back about ten steps and take a very different path. Uncomfortable? Understatement! "Might, I guess. Doesn't mean I really /want/ to talk about it." What's worse than worrying that you don't have the right equipment to deal with this? Well, maybe when you can't figure out /what/ you're dealing with. Jane might be able to do this without embarrassment, but 'Sam' can't. "Like I said. All a big mess." "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Jane says, quickly moving away from the uncomfortable topic. "Our time is about up for now but if you want we can meet again next week?" 'Sam' sighs hunching her shoulders a bit. "Listen. Not your fault. You're trying to help. I'm gonna talk to someone already, about the appearance thing. I'm guessing it'll be someone ... like me. I can try to ask him about it. Talk to him about it." Or maybe not. Chances are she'll chicken out then too. "Sure. I wouldn't mind meeting again. Sorry, for being all twitchy." They were getting along so well until right there at the end. Jane reaches out and touches Sam's hands. Not afraid of catching freak germs. Willing to share a moment of human contact with a fellow human no matter the circumstances. "No such thing as a perfect process. We'll stumble on the way but I'm here to help. Here. Let me give you my cellphone number, okay? You call me anytime if you need to talk." 'Sam' squeezes Jane's hand. Two moments of human contact. Not bad for a pair of freaks. "Really? Wow. OK." 'Sam' reaches into the middle pocket of the hoodie and produces a small phone, sliding it open to tap in the number in question as it is offered. "I'll give you mine too. Then you'll know who's calling and stuff." "Right." Jane draws her phone from her pocket. She reads off her number even as she's navigating the display on her phone to an input screen for a new number. 'Sam' taps in the number, then reads it back to confirm. There's an odd pause, there for a second or two. Then 'Sam' reads out a number in return, while racking her brain: What does one do in /this/ situation. There's no Miss Manners article that covers this! The earlir comments about the power of love are certainly sounding a lot different now. "Cool. Hey, I should tell you. My birth name is Susannah. Susannah Marie Duncan. Just, y'know. So you know." "I'll put you under Sam." Jane enters the data into her phone. And the number she's given. "You can call me anytime. Even if I'm asleep, I don't mind. I'm a light sleeper and don't need much anyway." Good thing Susannah's phone doesn't mind the same number being listed under multiple contact names. Though she'll have to work out some way to know if ... oh, bother. This is going to be /hard/. "Thanks. I appreciate it." 'Sam' stands up and offers a hand to Jane. "See you next week." Yeah. Going to need to think about this. A lot. She never counted on meeting a super when she /wasn't/ Man-at-Arms. Life is funny that way. Who would have thought that this plain, brown haired girl could become the pink clad, blonde icon of love? Or that a man trapped in a little girl's body could become a knight in shining armor? "Good. I'll see you soon. Please, come next week?" And that's it. They're done. For now, anyway. They'll see each other again.. in both forms. Category:Logs